


To the Thing That Follows

by Duchesse



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff, Horror, I See Dead People, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Self-Insert, Smut, gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse/pseuds/Duchesse
Summary: He’s always wondered if the reason you always looked over his shoulder could be related to his prophetic dreams.[Zen | Hyun Ryu/Reader].





	To the Thing That Follows

**Author's Note:**

> depending on response here, i'll move other parts to this over to ao3 as well.

As always, your eyes were never quite on him. He could hold your attention for a moment, fleeting as a deep breath and you were entranced by something just across his shoulder. It never failed to make the hair bristle on the back of his neck, goose flesh crawling up his body as he shrank into his thick coat.

He never knew why he couldn’t mesmerize you in the way everything else seemed to be able to; the way the invisible  _thing_  over his shoulder could. And yet, he could tell you were genuine from the way your eyes trembled as you struggled to stay engaged in the conversation despite the pull.

And when you did look away, you didn’t do too much except squint too hard, and deepen the lines in your brow. Sometimes he thought he could hear your fingers crushing the stem of the wine glass, or the screen of your phone.

It was intense, and it was a  _warning_.

Once, he asked himself why he stayed with you and never pressed your eccentric behaviors. It was as simple as him respecting your choice to be the one to bring it up, in spite of the curiosity that haunted him like a chill down his spine. 

Admittedly, he saw a bit of himself in you as well. All with his prophetic dreams that less than a handful had knowledge of. He theorized, that if it was something in the same vein, probing you for an answer would be detrimental to the relationship you both fostered.

But more than anything else, he  _loved_ you. He cherished you and every cell in your body. Perhaps it was because of that love that the dread he felt in the pit of his stomach seemed to open wide, swallowing whole when the lines of agitation pressed into your flesh again.

He relented and waited. And the reward for his patience came late at night, jarred awake with sweat beading his face, the thin sheets clinging to his skin. You jolted up with him, quick to lay a hand on his arm while smoothing the other across his back as you leaned close.

What did he dream about? It didn’t make any sense. The dream seemed to flicker as though he were watching an old film mangled by time and decay. There was nothing to piece together, no story he could even conceive from it. 

And then, he felt your hand gently turn his face towards you. Even under the veil of night, he could feel the severity of your gaze searing into him.

“Hyun,” You started cautiously, nearly whispering as though afraid someone would hear. “How long have the dead been following you?”


End file.
